Broken
by Scavenger'sDaughter2
Summary: Stiles has not been doing well. He's having panic attacks and nightmares. He has some...unsafe coping skills. Maybe Derek can help him? *Trigger Warning* Self harm/cutting. Alcohol use. Eating Disorder. Drug abuse
1. I need help (but I won't admit it)

**Well hello there. Thank you for giving this story a try. This is my first attempt at making something like this. I hope you enjoy it. **

Stiles was beginning to hate werewolves. He was up at ass o' clock running for his life, trying to avoid being ripped to shreds for the millionth time that year.

He and Scott were trying to find an omega that had been randomly attacking people. Per Derek's orders they had to track the thing down and kill it. Stiles didn't particularly care for those types of search and destroy missions but Derek was the Alpha and that meant what he said goes.

So that brings him to his present predicament. Scott was supposed to lure it into a clearing somewhere in the huge freaking woods surrounding Beacon Hills while Stiles snuck up behind it with a blade laced with wolfs bane. Simple enough. But oh no, nothing can ever go right with Stiles' life. As he was trying to implicate his super-sneak-attack, a twig snapped under his foot and the thing looked around right at Stiles. He didn't even have time to think about his next plan of action before Mr. Omega was chasing after him and oh ok, that makes his possible choices easier.

Stiles ran, not daring to look behind him for fear of seeing the creature gaining on him. The only sounds that filled his ears were of his beating heart and the pounding of his feet on the hard ground. His lungs were on fire and his legs ached but he had to keep going.

Eventually he stopped. He had to. Seriously, if he didn't stop he was going to pass out. So he stopped and waited for his impending doom but nothing happened. He looked behind him and nothing was there. Great. He had been running from something that wasn't even there.

He had another problem. Where the hell was he? Stiles felt his back pocket and almost screamed in frustration. His phone was gone. Could his luck get any better?

Dejected, the boy walked for hours. Well, it felt like hours but he couldn't be sure.

"This is ridiculous. Stupid Derek and his stupid orders…" Stiles said under his breath. It really was all the alpha's fault. Maybe if he didn't send the weak and clumsy human on dangerous assignments things like this wouldn't happen. Now he was lost, cold, and phoneless in the woods with an omega that wasn't interested in being friends. At least he still had the knife.

A loud growl brought him out of his musings. Not even a yard away stood the omega, blood running down his face. Clutched in one hand was the head of his best friend.

The breath caught in Stiles' throat and he held up the knife in front of him and ran towards the beast. The last thing he felt was the bite of claws imbedding themselves into his abdomen.

He screamed. The sheets of his bed were held in a death grip. His breathing refused to slow down until the breath stopped altogether. Stiles was panicking. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't calm himself down.

Stiles managed another strangled scream before his bedroom door burst open and his father came in, his police issued fire arm pointing at the invisible threat. John Stilinski quickly put his gun down when he realized there was no intruder; his son was having a panic attack.

He sat Stiles into a sitting position and put his arm around his son's back in what he hoped was a calming motion.

"Okay Stiles. Breathe with me. In and out." John breathed, hoping Stiles would reciprocate the action. He didn't. He couldn't. That only made things worse and now black spots danced at his line of vision and he hoped to any God out there that he didn't die from a panic attack. That would be the worse was to die in the history of ways to die.

It took another two minutes before Papa Stilinski had his son calmed down.

"Dad you can go to bed now. I'm fine, it was just a nightmare," Stiles said, his voice was still a little hoarse from screaming.

John looked at his son worriedly. "Are you sure? I don't have to be at work for another couple hours and-"

"Go to bed. I'm fine."

In all honesty he wasn't fine. He was so far beyond fine that a part of him wanted to stop lying to his dad and tell him what caused all the bad dreams and panic attacks and random bruises. But he couldn't. The less his dad knew the better.

He stayed awake. No way was he going back to that mess of a dream world.

Like always, the fear came in waves. The panicky feeling and the anxiety didn't though. They were a whole crushing flood that threatened to turn into another panic attack if he let them. His only thoughts at times like these were not helpful in anyway.

He needed to stop being a piece of crap at everything, especially when it came to being a functioning member of Derek's pack. That would ultimately solve all of his problems but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon unless he became a werewolf which was never going to happen (he asked Derek about the bite one time and he said Stiles wasn't strong enough, that ultimately the bite would kill him). Even he was realistic.

When the feeling became too intense again and the flood refused to subside, he decided to do the one thing he thought he was good at.

The clock on his bed side table read two in the morning. He locked the door and shut the blinds on the window (he definitely had to have a talk with the pack about being creepy and using windows as entrances even though there was a goddamn door).

Stiles took the pencil sharpener out of his desk drawer and began unscrewing the blade.

The boy sat at the edge of his bed with his sleeves rolled up to reveal dozens of scars and wounds in various stages of healing. The blade was pressed against pale skin.

He dragged the tiny blade over his arm and relief instantly came. He watched as the wound welled up with blood and fell onto the floor in droplets. He did this motion again and again until his arm was covered in blood and he felt something other than panic and fear. He felt alive.

That blood running down his arm was _his _blood. He was alive and to him that was something special.

He cleaned himself up in the bathroom across the hall and sat down at his desk with a contented sigh. Even though he felt relaxed he still knew that the whole sleeping thing wasn't going to happen so he opened up tumblr and spent a good hour laughing at shit people said online.

At three his dad came in and bid him goodbye. He hugged his father and went back to the computer. He popped an Adderall when his mind started to wander.

At around 3:30 there was a knock at his window. Again with the creepy werewolves and their lack of using doors. He sighed and opened the blinds.

Crouching on his roof was Derek freaking Hale. He made this face of open-the-window-or-I'll-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth. He unlocked the latch and turned around, going back to sit at his desk. Without looking up he heard Derek enter the room and shut the window.

Stiles turned around in his desk chair and looked at the man. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans that showed _everything _and an awesome leather jacket that he swore made the ladies (and a certain hyper active teenager) swoon.

Stiles cleared his throat. "So what can I do for you?"

Derek just looked at him and then looked around. He raised his nose in the air (very much like a dog) and sniffed the air.

"Why do I smell blood?" he said.

Stiles heart beat instantly picked up. "Well I um, you see, earlier in the night I tripped and hit my nose on the door knob and it made my nose bleed. Clumsy me, that's probably why it smells like blood."

Derek just nodded. He obviously knew Stiles was lying. What was he hiding?

There were a few tense and awkward moments of silence before Stiles cleared his throat.

"So Derek, why did you come to see me so late in the night or early in the morning, however you want to look at it?"

Derek took a few steps forward. "I need some research done on a strain of wolfs bane Deaton found. I want to see where is grows."

Stiles turned back to his computer. "Ok, got it. Just email me the details and I'll get right on it."

He was expecting that to be the end of the conversation but Derek didn't leave. Instead he felt a firm grip on the back of his neck and he felt Derek's breath down his neck. The alpha smelled him and in his rough voice he said, "Why do _you_ smell like blood? And don't give me that 'I'm a clumsy human' excuse. I can tell you're lying. What's the real reason?"

Stiles pushed the chair backwards suddenly, causing Derek to release his hold on Stile's neck.

"Just leave me alone!"

Derek's eyes glowed red and he took a menacing step forward. "I am your alpha. You will do as I say. Now answer the damn question, Stiles!"

Said boy opened the door to his bedroom and all but ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He was on the verge of another attack, he could feel it. Nobody could find out.

He opened the cabinet and took out his extra blade, quickly shoving up his sleeve, he pressed the blade down and made the first cut. He heard the banging on the door but couldn't bring himself to care. It didn't have the desired effect; he still felt that crushing flood was going to swallow him up. The second swipe of the blade was no better than the first.

On the third try he pressed down as hard as he could. Whoops, that was too deep. He stood over the sink and the blood began running down his arm rapidly and he knew he went too far. Derek was yelling now but it felt like someone shoved cotton in his ears so he had no idea what he was saying.

After a minute standing was too hard so he sat down (or fell down, he wasn't sure). The sound of wood cracking was the only sound Stiles could hear before the door splintered and Derek was standing there.

Stiles looked up through lidded eyes and managed to slur out. "Derek, I swear it's not what it looks like," because hey, everyone was allowed to be cliché every once and a while.

**Yeah so that happened. Please review. It makes me feel warm and inside and lets me know people actually want me to continue writing.**


	2. Save me (from the nothing I've become)

**I appreciate all of the favorites and follows. Thank you for reading this story. Here is the new chapter in the Broken series!**

Derek watched as Stiles turned his back and headed to what he thought was a bathroom across the hall. He was thinking of just turning around and heading home until he smelled blood, this time it was fresh and he could definitely tell it was Stiles'.

He starting pounding on the door, begging for Stiles to open it. After a minute, the heartbeat in the bathroom sped up and then it gradually slowed down.

That was when he had had enough. He kicked the door once, the second kick left it in half.

Whatever Derek was expecting on the other side of the door was not at all the reality. He was met with such a sad site, it had his wolf whining and scratching to get to the surface. He had to suppress a moan as he knelt down to look at the broken version of his mate. _Wait what. His mate? Nope not right now. Focus Derek._

He heard Stiles' attempt at a joke but he didn't laugh. Nothing was funny anymore.

The boy's eyes started to close and there was blood everywhere, the sink, the ground, and all over Stiles'.

He saw a gash on the boy's arm, mixed with dozens of other cuts.

"Stiles?" He shook him gently. "Stiles, buddy, open your eyes and stay with me."

Stiles was so tired. He didn't want to open his eyes but Derek's voice sounded desperate, he wasn't demanding like he usually did. He was pleading, so Stiles opened his eyes.

Derek saw a wash cloth and pressed it to the wound that was bleeding profusely. The gash needed stitches but that required the hospital and then there would be questions that he didn't know how to answer…

"We need to go to the hospital, ok?" Derek said calmly.

At that, Stiles sat up straight and suddenly became very aware of the situation.

"Nononono, no hospital. Scott's mom is working and my dad doesn't need to know. Please Derek, I can't," Stiles begged.

Derek ran his free hand through his hair. "Stiles…"

The boy just looked at him with honey colored eyes that made his wolf go crazy and that was it. Things were decided. No hospital.

Derek cleaned Stiles up. They both stayed quiet, neither knowing how to broach the subject.

The boy was confused. When he looked at Derek's face, there was no judgment or rejection. Just calm and he thought he saw understanding and sadness but he wasn't the best at reading people as brusque as Derek.

When the bleeding had stopped, Derek had found the first aid kit and bandaged the wound.

"Can you stand up?"

Stiles only nodded and tried. He took a step and lost his balance but two strong arms wrapped around his chest and had him standing again. Derek carried Stiles the rest of the way to his bed.

In the dim lighting of his room, Derek saw Stiles truly for the first time.

The boy was skinny, not just awkward-and-lanky-teenager skinny, but ohmygosh-please-eat-a- sandwich-right-now-type of skinny. He was sickeningly pale and that made the darkness under his eyes stand out more. His whole body was shaking, he looked like he would vibrate right out of his skin. Derek had no idea how he had not noticed the deterioration of Stiles' health.

Stiles watched as Derek watched him. There was something predatory in his stare and he dared not move or speak.

Finally something happened. The alpha kneeled in front of Stiles and gingerly (seriously, when was Derek gentle?) took his bandaged wrists.

"Stiles…" his voice cracked and he suddenly appeared ten years older.

He looked at Stiles in the eye.

"Why? Why do you do this to yourself?"

Stiles felt his throat clench up and a burning in his eyes.

"Derek, I- I do it to feel alive. I do it to feel something other than this numb inside me that won't leave. You couldn't understand what this does for me. It's the only thing that makes me feel good anymore."

"Doesn't the pack make you feel good?" Derek said. He felt like maybe it was because he was just a bad alpha, he was too harsh.

Stiles took his hands away from Derek and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Derek, I'm a boy that runs with wolves. I can never truly be part of your pack. I'm human and that means I'm weak. I fail the pack all the time. I'm actually glad the only reason you come to see me is for research, I'm useless doing anything else."

The wolf whined and this time Derek did nothing to stop it. He laid his head in Stiles' lapped.

"Stiles… you will always be a part of my pack and you aren't useless. You've saved my life and Scott's life plenty of times. And- and maybe you do a lot of research but that's only because you're the best at it. Do you think I could trust Scott with finding a wolfs' bane origin? You are vital for this pack's survival and you are the most important member."

Stiles timidly put his hand on Derek's head and when his hand wasn't bitten off he took that as an opportunity to run his fingers through his alphas hair.

A low rumbling sound filled the room and the boy realized it was Derek's version of purring.

After a few minutes Derek put his head up and once again took Stiles' hands in his.

"You have to stop _this_," he motioned to the bandages. "You could've died tonight and I don't know what I'd- I mean, the pack would be lost without you."

Stiles sighed.

"Derek, I can try but this has been my coping skill for so long. What happens if I have a panic attack? Or I wake up with a nightmare and that crushing emptiness doesn't leave?"

Derek slowly stood up.

"I can help you feel alive without you hurting yourself."

He tenderly pressed his lips to Stiles'. The boy just stared at him and then closed his eyes.

Derek slid his tongue past parted lips and explored his mouth and before either of them knew it, the whole thing was over and Derek was just standing up.

A sudden tired feeling overwhelmed Stiles'. Maybe he would skip school tomorrow and just sleep all day. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

"Derek, could you please stay with me until I fall asleep?" Stiles asked, knowing the answer already. He prepared himself for rejection when Derek headed for the door without a word.

Instead, he flicked off the light switch and the room was bathed in darkness.

The bed creaked under the weight of another body and Stiles was pulled under the covers and pushed against a warm chest.

Stiles' nuzzled into the warmth and no more words were said.

**Yeah so…yeah. Please REVIEW! I would really appreciate it.**


	3. I can(not) take care of myself

**So I feel like this story is getting a good response. Thanks to all of my readers!**

**Oh btw I don't own Teen Wolf. If I did do you think I'd be writing fan fiction?**

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Stiles when he woke up alone but it did. He had wanted to see Derek's face first thing in the morning. Oh well, he knew the alpha was too emotionally constipated to face what he had done. When he remembered that _Derek Hale _had kissed him only hours before, his cheeks turned hot and he suddenly became very aware of the fact that his crush might actually like him back. But positive thoughts about himself don't work in Stiles' mind. _He was just feeling pity_. _He doesn't like me, he just feels bad._

Stiles looked at his phone. Yeesh, 11:30. He must have been wiped to sleep that long. In fact, he couldn't remember any recent time he had slept for more than three or four hours.

No messages. What a surprise. His supposed best friend was probably too invested with his girlfriend (he was not liking Allison all that much since she had stolen his bro) to realize Stiles was gone from school. Oh well, friends could be like that sometime.

He rolled over into the spot Derek had previously occupied and just laid face down for a while. He could still smell him. He was a mixture of forest and leather and that had to be his new favorite scent.

At twelve he figured he should get up but ugh his bed was warm and the floor would be like ice. The boy somehow managed to tough it out when he realized he was still covered in blood from the previous night. Groddy.

Stiles stood under the spray of water (his cuts burned from the contact but whatever) and smiled. This felt…nice. His problems weren't even close to being solved but for this instance, he was ok. He was just fine.

He stepped out of the shower and dried off his body as quick as he could because to him it was cold. Who could blame him? He lived in California and anything below 60 degrees was too cold and he wasn't blind, he knew about the weight he had lost recently. So he was now cold. All the time. _But you weren't cold when the living furnace that is Derek Hale was sleeping in your bed?_ You know what? Shut up mind. I don't need your snide comments. And wow he needed more friends.

He went to his room and threw on a long sleeve shirt along with a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. _I'm not going out today so why bother getting on real clothes?_

He took three times his prescribed dose of Adderall. He was feeling super ADD and figured the extra dose might help. He totally (on accident) forgot about the dose he took at three.

Stiles went to the kitchen and decided against eating. He wasn't feeling hungry. And he ignored that voice in his head that was saying how his hip bones jutted out like knives and his paper thin skin were stretched over very breakable ribs.

At one his head was swimming and he felt amazing. Maybe he wasn't ADD, he was just an undiagnosed Bipolar. He checked his phone and there was nothing waiting for him. Oh well, he didn't need any texts to feel like he mattered.

At 1:30 pm he was untouchable. He actually put on real clothes and grabbed his keys (and phone, even though he knew no one would bother with him). He was going on a drive. Where? He had no idea.

Stiles kept staring off at the rode and he didn't realize he had stopped until there were horns beeping, urging him to move forward.

_Too loud_! He screamed internally. He had to get somewhere quiet and secluded, so he went driving through the back roads that were in the middle of the woods.

There was a ringing in his ears that he thought were all in his head until he caught a glimpse of his phone screen lighting up. He picked on the small device.

"What's up?"

"Stiles?"

The boy had not even checked the caller ID but he knew that voice anywhere.

"Well hello there Derek? What can I do you for?" He was trying to say that but he had no idea if that's how it sounded.

"Stiles, where are you? I'm at your house and your Jeep is gone. You weren't picking up and Scott said you didn't come to school today."

"Oh you know me, I went on a spontaneous excursion through the woods."

"Why do you sound like that?" Derek asked, confusion was evident in his voice.

"Like what, Der Der?"

"Like you drank too much."

"Well, that might be because I may have taken a little too much Adderall. And oh, would you look at that, there are so many birds out today."

"Are you fucking kidding me Stiles? You're high and you decided to go on a drive? I was gone for a couple of hours. What is wrong with you?"

"Well ADD for starters. Depression, undiagnosed anxiety disorder. You know, pretty common stuff."

"Dammit Stiles, be serious for once. Can't you do anything besides joke around? Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"You know what, don't even bother. I can handle myself. You aren't my keeper. Go scare a little kid or creep on Scott, just leave me alone," Stiles said, suddenly frustrated by Derek's words (it might have been Stiles' fault for being irresponsible but who is keeping track?).

Stiles ignored the yell he heard through the phone as he hung up.

Maybe Derek was right. He should stop driving. In his drug induced haze, he pulled his Jeep over and got out. He vaguely remember where he was, he would eventually find his way home.

**Sorry about the short chapter. I hope you liked it.**


	4. Wandering (alone and lost)

**Yep, so this story is actually getting a pretty good response. Thank you everyone!**

Derek stared at his phone in disbelief. What just happened?

_You know what happened. Stiles obviously doesn't want your help_.

He sighed. Stiles could handle himself. He just had a serious self-destruction complex…and he

was alone… and the boy was high while driving.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, already knowing what he was going to do. He pulled his

Camaro out of the Stilinski's drive way and headed off. Derek honestly had no clue where the

boy was.

He rolled down the window and stuck his head out (ignoring the voice in his head saying he

looked like a dog). His wolf was scratching at the surface, whining and begging to be released.

They were both worried about the boy.

Derek followed the general direction of Stiles' scent (It was distinct. Lavender and laundry

detergent with underlying tones of sadness and panic).

The alpha had time to think on the way to, in his mind, rescue Stiles'.

What was he doing? Not about getting Stiles, that he had to do, but what was he doing trying

to get close to the boy? He knew he didn't want to only comfort the boy (what he really wanted

to do was pound his skinny ass into a bed but he would never admit that to anyone). He wanted something more from him and Stiles' clearly wasn't ready for that kind of commitment and he didn't even know if the kid liked him back.

He said he would help him. And he was doing a pretty good job of that *Heavy Sarcasm*. It was only day one and he couldn't even keep him safe. It was kind of the boy's fault though (who gets high and then goes on a drive?)

After about twenty minutes of driving and self-blame and a little anger, Derek spotted

Stiles' Jeep parked on the shoulder of the rode. Automatically his mind went to the worst

possible scenario and he was parked and out of his car in record time.

He ran to the driver's side door and was a little relieved to see that Stiles wasn't dead, he just

wasn't in the car. Which posed knew problems like where the hell was he?

He opened the door because of course, it was unlocked. And what really worried him was the

empty bottle of cough syrup sitting in the passenger seat next to the boy's phone. Great. Maybe

he had a cold?

Stiles stumbled on a root sticking out of the ground and fell on his hands, scraping the palms. He stood up and brushed the leaves off of his clothes, he noticed that he tore a hole in the material

on his right thigh. His palms burned. The slight shock of pain was sobering and he was able to

get a little clarity from the fog that was his mind after Adderall and DXM.

Maybe he should be getting back. His dad got home at…what time again? He turned around and

realized that he had no idea where he was.

Panic was setting in. He was lost and alone in the woods and he had told the one person who

could help to leave him alone. The fear that no one would be looking for him shook off any of

the high he had been previously feeling.

He walked for an hour? Two hours? He wasn't sure and oh God this was getting to be like his

dream. The flood of fear came in and he had to lean up against a tree while he tried to steady his

breathing which totally wasn't working.

He sat with his back to the tree and his breathing picked up.

"I can't do this!" he said out loud, trying to gain his breath.

He put his hand on his jean-clad leg and starting scratching his skin through the hole in his pants.

He felt the blood on his fingers and kept scratching. It was helping to calm his breathing. The pain kept him grounded and he focused on it.

After he was calm enough and the flood wasn't as crushing, he looked down at his thigh.

His pants were saturated in blood and his leg burned but he smiled.

He looked at his fingers that were smeared with blood and the smile stayed on his face as he sat and enjoyed the fresh air.

What would Derek think? _Probably that I'm a worthless piece of crap that can't keep from _

_hurting myself. _And besides, Derek doesn't care anyway. He's gone.

Derek was running through the woods, catching Stiles' scent. The boy must have been trashed; he zigzagged and at one point he went in a complete circle. Derek was a little surprised though, the boy had made good distance for the short amount of time had had been walking.

He tilted his head up and sniffed the air. Blood. Stiles' blood. The coppery scent filled his nose like it had only just that morning.

He ran. He panicked. He had to find Stiles.

Derek spotted him in the distance; it didn't even take a minute before he was mere feet away from him.

Derek coughed, seeing as how Stiles was not aware of the other presence.

At the noise Stiles turned towards the alpha and smiled. He put his hand up in a wave.

"Well hello there friend." Derek said nothing.

He stepped closer and crouched so he was at eye level with the boy. He looked at him and the first thing he noticed was the blood covering his thigh and hand.

His wolf whined and howled; that was his mate's blood.

"Stiles…I don't know what to say. Sorry, I guess?"

"Derek it's ok. This is all on me. I know you are only trying to help but you don't need to. I've been managing on my own. I don't need your pity, that's the only reason you're pretending like you care isn't it?"

Derek shook his head and moved to sit next to the boy; he pretended he didn't see the slight flinch when he shifted sitting positions.

They sat in silence for a while. Derek was bad with words.

After some amount of time, he cleared his throat.

"Stiles, I'm not doing this out of pity. You are in my pack, I am your alpha. It's my job to care but that's not the only reason I'm trying to help. I like you. And don't give me that look, I'm not lying. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I want to throttle you and make you shut up but I truly like you. And I'm not the best with words so sometimes I end up threatening you or throwing you against things but that doesn't mean I don't care. And this," he motioned to the drying blood and the bandages that were exposed on his arms "has to stop. I'm speaking for all of us. You don't need this controlling your life. Please, not just for me but for the entire pack, stop this."

Stiles put his head in his hands.

"This has been my coping skill for so long. I don't know if I can stop. I can't do it alone, I've tried."

Derek leaned in and kissed the boy on the lips.

"You won't be alone, we will do this together."

**Aww so sweet. Please leave reviews. They make me feel happy.**


	5. Take care (of me)

**Sorry about the formatting on the last chapter, Google Docs messed up the page and I didn't notice. Oh well. Enjoy the new chapter of Broken!**

Stiles pressed his cheek against the cool glass of the window in Derek's Camaro. To say he wasn't feeling well was an understatement. He felt like he had been hit several times in the face with a freight train.

He was cold and his head hurt and his vision would focus in and out, not to mention the palms of his hands and thigh had a constant burning sensation.

Derek looked at his young charge while driving to the boy's house. Stiles smelled weird. Not bad weird, he just smelled off.

"Stiles, are you feeling ok?"

Stiles weakly nodded.

"Yeah I'm good, just a little nauseous."

"Well it was probably all the stuff you took and your stomach sounds empty so that probably isn't helping. Wait, now that I think about it, this morning your stomach sounded empty too. When was the last time you ate?"

Stiles' mind still felt foggy (and not the good fog that drugs produced).

"I don't know, was it yesterday or the day before?"

Derek sighed. This kid would be the death of him.

When they arrived at the Stilinski residence, Derek stepped out of the car, expecting Stiles to follow. He got out slowly and Derek ran around the front of the car when the boy started to sway.

"Sorry, I'm really not feeling well," Stiles chuckled.

Derek just gave him a face that said what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you?

He helped Stiles into the house (and to Stiles joy they used the door).

When they were in his room Derek helped him gather clothes and ordered him to take a shower.

"What, do I smell?" Stiles said slightly offended.

"No, but you smell like blood and stress. And something else I can't quite place. I'm also sure there is some kind of haze over your mind or you would have talked my ear off by now."

Stiles simply nodded and headed towards the bathroom.

"Do you um, need any help? I don't want you falling and hurting yourself even more."

Stiles shook his head. He continued walking but he stopped.

He turned around and before he could speak Derek said, "Don't worry. I'll still be here when you come back."

The smile that graced Stiles face made Derek's wolf go crazy. He sat down in the computer chair and took deep breaths. Dammit, if just one smile could have him wolfing out then he really had a problem.

His phone vibrated and when he saw the caller ID he sighed.

"Derek, why the hell haven't you been answering?" yelled his angry beta.

"Well Scott, unlike some people, I've been taking care of a friend who needs some serious help."

"Does that mean you found him? Is he ok?"

"Yes I found him wandering in the woods high off his ass. So no, I don't think he's ok."

There was a brief pause and he could hear Scott's breathing.

"Do you know why?"

"I'm not his best friend so no, I have no idea." Derek knew it was a low blow and he did know why Stiles went on his escapade but he wanted Scott to feel bad. He wanted the whole pack to feel bad, they had all been neglecting Stiles. He was fellow pack and no one noticed his deteriorating state.

"I'm coming over. I'll talk to him and see what's wrong."

He had to stop himself from growling. That was his mate in the shower who needed taking care of and this idiot that led to the problem in the first place had the audacity to assume he could come over and talk- and ohmygosh he sounded like some jealous boyfriend.

He cleared his throat. "No Scott. Not right now. I'm not sure he wants to see you or any of the pack right now. Hell, I don't even know if he should go to the hospital after all of the things he took."

"You can't stop me, he's my best friend-"

"Your best friend? _Your_ best friend?" He stood up. He was yelling now. "Where have you been Scott? Where have you been when he had panic attacks? Where were you when he took pills and then went on a fucking drive? Your head is so far up Allison's ass that you can't see your best friend is hurting."

He knew he shouldn't have been yelling at Scott. The alpha was just as much to blame as the beta, more so even, he was supposed to guide the pack, not completely ignore them until they hurt themselves.

"And you don't even know about-"Derek began but he heard footsteps behind him and he stopped.

"Derek, who are you yelling at?"

The alpha ended the call.

"No one, Stiles." He turned around and stared at the master piece of a human being in front of him. The boy had on loose jeans and a red hoodie. His hair was still damp and held a messy look that suited him perfectly.

Stiles sat on his bed. "It didn't sound like no one."

Derek just ignored him and took his place back in the chair.

"Are you feeling better?"

Stiles shrugged. "A little bit, I guess?"

Derek nodded, he remembered the boy's injuries. He had forgotten for a short time once the smell of blood no longer clung to him.

"You need to redress your wounds, I don't want them to get infected."

Stiles cheeks grew red when he remembered that his injury was on his thigh. That meant he was going to have to take off his pants, in front of Derek Hale, resident alpha and sour wolf.

"I-I can do it."

Derek sensed that the boy was embarrassed but his wolf refused to let his mate suffer.

The alpha stood up and moved to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

"I insist."

It had been exactly one hour and thirty minutes since Derek had found Stiles and the boy was in serious pain.

There was a pressure in his head and his stomach felt like the churning sea. Derek was taking the time to clean the wounds on his palms, thigh, and wrists but that hurt too ( to his relief, Derek sensed that he was uncomfortable and told Stiles to change into sweat pants so he didn't have to be pants less in front of the older male). His chest was tight.

He was not in good shape. Derek realized this.

"Stiles."

The boy slowly put his head up, the carpet in his room was spinning and he found that interesting.

"Yep?"

Derek raised an eyebrow and put his hand to Stiles' forehead. He was burning up.

"Well you're running a fever. Any other things I should know about?"

Stiles' speech slurred. "You know, I'm in pain."

"Okay, where?"

"Everywhere, I guess?"

Derek put down the gauze and took Stiles' arm. Before the boy could protest, black veins ran from Stiles' arm to Derek's. He had to take a deep breath as a flood of pain hit him.

After about a minute, Derek was done.

"Thanks, Derek. I feel a lot better."

"I think something is wrong Stiles."

Stiles opened his mouth but no words came. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backward onto the floor.

Derek moved by his head and felt for Stiles' pulse. He was relieved but also scared as an erratic _thump thump_ pounded against his fingers.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number as Stiles started convulsing.

The phone rang as Derek was trying not to panic.

She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Erica, Stiles is having a seizure!" He yelled.

"Okay Derek, no need to yell. In fact, yelling will make it worse. Make sure he can't hit his head on anything. And don't hold him down or put something in his mouth, this will make things a lot worse. If it lasts any longer than two minutes or he stops breathing, call an ambulance. I'm coming over." She hung up, leaving no room for argument.

He did as instructed and when two minutes rolled around he picked up his phone to call for help but the convulsing stopped and Stiles was still. He would have thought he was dead but he could hear the pulse calming down.

His lashes fluttered and big, honey eyes opened. Stiles looked panicked.

"Derek…bathroom!"

Derek immediately understood and picked up Stiles and rushed to the bathroom.

In under three seconds the boy was leaning over the toilet, spilling the non-existent contents of his stomach.

The alpha rubbed circles into his back as he finished, he wiped his mouth with tissue and flushed the toilet.

"Well, I feel a lot better," Stiles said, trying to lighten the mood.

Derek was going to answer before he heard the front door open and slam shut and the sound of high heels running up the stairs.

Erica appeared before them, Stiles looked surprised.

"I called her when you started seizing," Derek explained.

She stepped past the alpha and leaned down and looked Stiles in the face.

"What did you take?"

Stiles feigned confusion but the glare Erica shot him made him shrink back.

"Adderall and Nyquil."

She sighed. "How about next time you don't do that. Hmm? Drug induced seizures are more dangerous than the ones caused by epilepsy."

Stiles nodded.

"I won't be doing it again."

She finished examining him and stood back up.

"He'll be fine but you should have taken him to the hospital the moment you found out he took an excess amount of Adderall. He could have died, Derek. Stiles, don't be an idiot. What if you had died? Did you think of how that would affect the pack when you took the drugs? And Derek, take better care of your mate."

Leaving the males in silence, she walked out of the bathroom.

**Yep so that happened. This was a longer chapter than I usually do so enjoy it.**


	6. My family (and I)

**So I'm trying to incorporate things that my fellow hurt/comfort- Sterek lovers like. I hope you are all enjoying my story. This is my first time attempting something like this and the feedback I'm getting makes me very happy.**

**Sorry for not PMing those of you who write reviews, I'm kind of lazy:/**

Stiles just stared at the spot Erica had previously occupied. What did she mean about the pack caring? They obviously didn't, none of them had noticed anything.

Derek was internally freaking out. How did Erica know that he thought of Stiles as his mate? Was he that obvious? _That's probably why Stiles is so quiet, he knows I think of him as my mate._

The two males looked at each other. Stiles was the first to speak.

"Are you going to tell the rest of the pack about…this?"

_Oh God, he wants me to tell the pack about my feelings toward him. NONONONONONONO._

"I mean, I don't want them to know how messed up I am or the things I do. I don't want them looking at me as the weak human that cuts himself."

Derek almost let out a breath of relief, he wasn't talking about the whole mate thing.

"I won't but I'm sure Erica will say something. And Scott called so I had to tell him something. Don't look at me like that, I only told him about the drugs. So be prepared, your door might be knocked down by a bunch of worried betas."

Stiles only nodded.

Derek finished wrapping his wounds and stood up, offering a hand to the boy. He took the extended appendage and joined the alpha standing.

Stiles ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"I'm cold…"

Derek nodded. He engulfed Stiles in his muscled arms and they stood there.

"We'll get through this. The pack won't be mad at you. They will be sad but they would never blame you," Derek said, sensing the worry wafting off the boy.

"I know, I can't help it. I'm worried," Stiles said into Derek's warm shoulder.

Stiles looked up at Derek with huge eyes and before either knew what was happening, Derek's lips covered Stiles'.

Stiles didn't pull away so he took it as an invitation to slide his tongue past parted lips. There was a brief struggle for dominance before Derek was exploring his mouth.

They came up for air and Derek guided Stiles to the bed. The alpha laid him down and continued to kiss him.

The alpha whined and pressed his hard member into Stiles' thigh from where he was positioned on top of the teen. He grinded his clothed erection against the teen's warm thigh.

He moved to suck on Stiles' neck while continuing his minstarations. The boy carded his fingers through the alpha's hair.

"Derek…I want you so bad," Stiles gasped.

Derek looked up at the boy's face and licked a trail from his collar bone to the soft flesh behind his ear. The moan it elicited made the alpha shiver.

Derek started to undo the teen's zipper and he would have taken that delicious erection into his mouth but the sound of Stiles' heart beat made him stop.

_Thump. Thump Thump Thump. Thump Thump._

As soon as he heard the erratic beat Stiles gasped in pain. He was sitting up and grabbing his chest, Derek got off his hips and was sitting beside him with a hand on his back.

"Derek, my chest hurts!" He said through clenched teeth.

He listened to the beats increase as Stiles panicked even more. The palpitations quickly turned into a panic attack.

"Stiles, listen to my voice. You have to calm down. Just breathe."

Stiles nodded but his breathing didn't slow.

"Remember the first pack meeting? Jackson was being an asshole as usual. Issac was scared of all the people gathered into the loft. Lydia and Allison were talking about stuff no one cared about and Scott was watching his girlfriend with puppy eyes. Boyd and Erica sat together talking quietly and ignoring everything going on around them. It was just you and me sitting next to each other. You were talking about…the differences between the walking dead comic book and the TV show I think and I honestly didn't care but I let you talk anyway. That was when I realized I liked you. Do you remember it?"

"Yes… but I also you remember you telling me to-to stop talking or…you'd rip out my throat with your teeth. Did you forget?"

Derek shrugged. "What can I say? I'm bad with words."

Stiles breathing slowed. Distracting Stiles from a panc attack: success. "Thank you for that. My chest hurt and I freaked out."

"Well I'm an idiot. You just had a freaking seizure and haven't eaten for God knows how long and I thought it would be okay to let you get this excited. I'm sorry."

Stiles put his hand on Derek's shoulder. "I wanted to do it, I guess maybe some other time."

Derek smiled. "Yeah, some other time."

"So how would you feel about making me a sandwich," Stiles joked.

Derek sat across from Stiles, enjoying a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Stiles had changed into a long sleeved t- shirt and skinny jeans, claiming he didn't want to go back to sleep (even after Derek had offered to sleep with him just in case he had a bad dream).

It was already 4:30 and the boy's father wouldn't be home for another hour so Derek decided to stay with him for a while longer.

The doorbell rang and Stiles flinched. Derek could hear the voices and instantly knew the entirety of the pack was waiting on the other side of the door. Stiles however, had no idea who rang the doorbell (Stiles figured his dad had come home early and forgot his house keys in the empty mug on his desk at work in the police station).

Derek didn't bother telling him as he got up to answer the door.

He swung it open and was met with seven faces. His pack. His family.

He took a step back. "Um, hey guys?"

Scott was the first to step forward and give him a hug.

Stiles clung to him and he heard his best friend whisper in his ear, "I love you man and I'm sorry."

The rest of the pack stepped into his home and joined in the hug, at some point Derek moved beside Stiles. The alpha clung to his back.

And in that brief moment, Stiles knew everything was all right. He had his family and they loved him.


	7. You've got a friend (in us)

**Yay so I'm at 2000+ views, this is great! I don't know if anyone actually reads the author notes but whatevs. I really appreciate my readers, every follow or favorite I get really brightens my day! Reviews are always welcome!**

When the hugging was over, Stiles invited his pack into the living room and mentally prepared himself for a long and awkward discussion. But it never came. It looked to be instead, a pack movie night. Stiles hadn't attended one in weeks.

Stiles was in the middle of the couch with Derek clinging to his side while Scott was on the other side (also clinging to him). Isaac and Jackson sat on the floor between Derek and Stiles' feet while Lydia and Allison sat in chairs to the right of the couch. Erica and Boyd sat on chairs to the left of the couch.

Scott had picked out The Worlds End saying 'it's such an awesome movie, we have to watch it' and with those large puppy eyes everyone had to say yes.

Stiles lazily ran his fingers through Isaac's hair and leaned against Derek, completely at peace.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Scott watching him. And if he was being super self-aware, he would have noticed the whole pack sneaking glances.

Simon Peg and co. had just made it to the Hole in the Wall when Stiles' eyes started to close. He was so warm and comfortable and Derek's shoulder just felt so right he just closed his eyes.

Scott was the first to notice that a member of the pack had went to sleep. He looked down at Stiles and when he was sleeping (the only time he wasn't moving a mile a minute), Scott could see how truly tired Stiles looked. He made a noise in his throat, his wolf was whining in defeat at the sight at of his best friend. Derek looked at him snoozing on his shoulder, as did everyone else. Isaac paused the movie. Erica was the first to speak.

"How did this happen?"

"It happened the moment we decided he wasn't important. And don't look at me like that. I don't mean not important as a person, I mean not important in the pack dynamic. Stiles is human and we deemed him as the research guy. The guy we went to at two in the morning to find out who someone is or some obscure strain of wolfs bane. But we forgot that he was the one we went to unload all of our problems on. Scott and Allison, I know for a fact that your relationship wouldn't have made it this far without him." Allison and Scott looked at each other and the girl nodded.

"Erica and Boyd, it's the same for you (and yes, everyone knows you guys are dating)," at this Erica crossed her arms over her chest and Boyd just smiled and looked down.

"Isaac, how many times have you gone to him when you had nightmares? Or Jackson, you constantly joke around with him, but does he know you are joking and not actually meaning what you say? And Lydia, when you are having troubles with Jackson, how long have you been going to Stiles for advice?"

"And I do admit I have treated him the same way, only going to him when it was most convenient for me. But now we change."

Isaac looked nervous, which wasn't all that uncommon. "So Derek, Erica only told us about the seizure and Scott told us about the drugs but is there anything else we should know about? It's kind of your style to leave out important information."

Derek ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't going to tell them about the self harm, he would leave that up to Stiles.

"Just…know that Stiles needs help. He needs help from all of us."

Everyone nodded their heads. When the serious moment had passed and Derek had stopped talking, all of the girls in the room shared a look and started giggling.

It was the guys turn to share a look of 'what the heck'?

Before they saw his eyes open, the pack heard the change in his heartbeat and they knew Stiles was awake.

"I feel as though you've been talking about me," Stiles said tiredly. Derek had to stop a whine of protest when Stiles got off of the alpha's shoulder.

Jackson cleared his throat and looked up at Stiles from his place on the floor.

"Stiles…we're sorry and we will make it up to you. I promise."

Stiles had to swallow around the lump in his throat. They were apologizing..to him?

"You guys don't have to apologize-"

"But we do! We have been making you feel left out, and believe me, we had no idea what we were doing," Scott argued.

Everyone nodded.

Before Stiles knew it they were hugging again and leaving.

"You're probably tired (I can smell the exhaustion so don't lie to me) so I'll be back tomorrow," Scott said.

"I'm going to be making sure that you have bro time from now on," Allison said with another hug.

Everyone said there appropriate good byes, Jackson's was brusque as per usual (Come back to school Stilinski, I miss your face). Isaac gave a small nod, a quick hug, and a goodbye while Erica squeezed him extra hard and told him to 'never scare me like that again, and oh god I hate seizures'. Boyd was pretty silent and when Jackson was out the door, Lydia gave him a small peck on the cheek and if he was being completely honest with himself he could of swore he saw Derek's eyes glow red for a second.

When it was just Derek and himself left in his house, he audibly sighed.

"Well that went better than eexpected," Stiles said.

Derek raised an eyebrow "What did you expect? Yelling? A fight to break out?"

"I don't know what I was expecting. Not that. Everyone was really cool and understanding. Wait, did they know about the cutting?"

Derek silently sat down on the sofa. "No they didn't, well at least I don't think they knew, but I wasn't going to tell them. I'm leaving that up to you."

Stiles nodded and joined Derek on the couch. He grabbed the remote and pressed play. They still had a movie to finish.

**So yeaaa, I'm not done with this story yet (I still have some more ideas for smexy time and some more self harm scenes) so next time be expecting either smut or something else. Can't wait to hear the feedback from you guys!**


	8. I'm sorry (for letting you down)

**Yea so it just occurred to me that I have not done any copyright statements or whatever. I don't own Teen Wolf, Tumblr, or, the Worlds End/ Simon Peg or Nyquil or Adderall or Captain Morgan. Sorry about that (I don't want to be sued). This chapter contains self-harm so trigger warning. Ok we can begin.**

Stiles woke up to someone shaking him. When he opened his eyes he flinched at the opposing force, his sleep addled brain confusing his father for an intruder.

Seeing his son flinch, John Stilinski removed his hands and took a step back, waiting for Stiles to come back to consciousness.

The teen opened his eyes, realizing it wasn't some wolf that wanted to rip his head off, he relaxed. "Hey dad," he said, sitting up.

John smiled. He really didn't want to wake him up but he had to ask him something and tell him to get his sleep deprived butt upstairs to bed.

"Hey kid," he sat down next to Stiles.

Stiles yawned. "How was work?"

John shrugged. "You know, never a dull moment. I swear this town has so many unexplained events. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."

Stiles nodded, urging his dad forward. Internally he was scared. Did his dad know?

"Stiles, I want to know what's wrong with you lately. You haven't had panic attacks and nightmares this frequently since your mom died. You're hanging out with more people, that in itself isn't that bad but the constant sneaking to be with these people isn't good. I have eyes so yes; I have noticed the huge amount of weight you've lost recently. You flinch when anyone touches you or even comes close to touching you and you've been lying to me. Yes, I know you've been lying, I'm a cop for pete's sake, I can tell when I'm being lied to."

Stiles, for once, had nothing to say. He was speechless.

"Dad…I don't know what to say. I can't tell you what's really going on, I doubt you'd believe me anyway. I just can't tell you, the less you know the better."

Mr. Stilinski rubbed a hand over his face. Did he still have that bottle of Captain Morgan hidden under the kitchen sink?

"Stiles, you're a teenager so I know trying to force information out of you won't work. Just know that I love you and when you're ready to talk I'm here for you. Ok?"

Wordlessly, Stiles hugged his father.

"I'm sorry dad." For being such a disappointment. For letting you down. For lying to you. But of course, he didn't say that.

John let go and stood up.

"Good, now that that's over get your butt to bed. Tomorrow is Saturday so you can sleep in."

Stiles joined his dad standing, letting the blanket that had been placed on him fall back to the couch. When had that gotten there?

His dad patted him on the shoulder and Stiles moved to go upstairs. He was slightly upset that Derek had gone but he was also glad. What would his dad have said if he found the ex-murder suspect alone in his house with his underage son? Ugh, to disastrous to think about.

Stiles made it to his room and shut the door, locking it just in case any werewolves decided to stop by (through the window of course because he'd expect nothing less).

He looked at the clock, it was only six.

The teen lay in his bed, to distracted to sleep.

The wounds on his thigh, arms, and hands hurt. He sat up and pulled up his shirt sleeve. After unraveling the gauze, he looked at the cuts he had made that morning.

Some were deep but that one he had pressed too hard was a monster. The cut hadn't healed. At all. He needed to be careful. He wanted to hurt but he didn't want to die.

Stiles wrapped it back up and figured he should get up and do something productive if he couldn't sleep (that means the internet).

He checked his email and Derek had sent him the info on the wolfs bane so that's where he was hours later.

Aconitum Vulparia. He sifted through the darkest corners of the internet and found it. After emailing his findings to Derek, he went to his blog and messed around.

The thing about insomnia was that being awake for hours late into the night meant one had time to wander through thoughts and feel things that wouldn't be felt during normal hours of the day. This was not always positive.

At 11 pm Stiles started to look at things he shouldn't be looking at on tumblr (no, not porn. He wasn't feeling very much up for porn lately). He was looking at pictures of scars and burns.

At 12 am he was feeling very triggered. He logged off his computer and considered texting Derek for help. He really did consider it but the evil voice in his head kept saying things and well, he was not proud to admit it but he listened to that voice.

He pulled down the blinds on his window (because seriously werewolves, if he hadn't stressed it enough).

He got out his pencil sharpener and unscrewed the blade. He laid out a towel he had in his room on the ground and sat down. It must have been a full five minutes before he decided if he was really going to go through with this. He was.

Stiles lifted up his sleeve and let the blade rest on his upper forearm. He pressed down.

He sliced open the skin and drew in a breath. This was amazing.

Stiles sliced again and the blood fell down his arm and onto the towel. _This is for lying to your father. _He made another cut. _This is for being worthless. _And another. _You are an awful human being._

By the sixth cut he was crying. He was all those things his head told him he was. He was useless; even now he was breaking a promise to Derek. He was letting the pack down.

The teen wiped the tears off his face and stood up, letting the blood on his arms fall down in little crimson droplets.

He grabbed the towel and wiped off the blood. The first aid kit had been left in his room so he used that to disinfect the cuts and wrap his arms back up. Stiles sprayed an excessive amount of body spray on him and around the room (he saw it on a werewolf show one time that the smell confuses their nose so it was worth giving it a try).

He turned off his desk light and tried to go back to bed.

At 2 am he was in that stage between being asleep and being awake when he thought he heard his window slide open and shut again but that must have been his imagination. That's what he thought until his mattress creaked under someone's body weight and two arms wrapped around him. This was definitely not a dream.

Stiles was lying on his side and facing the wall. He felt a stubbled cheek rub itself on his neck and he hummed in satisfaction. Lips kissed behind his ear.

"Mmm, Stiles," Derek hummed.

Stiles turned to face him; in the dark he kissed the alpha.

"Derek," he said against his lips.

The teen rested his head against the older male's chest and breathed in. His wonderful scent soon filled his nose and that's how he fell asleep, in the arms of his love.

**So what did you think? Was it to your liking? Please let me know. I accept suggestions and will really take them into consideration when writing this story. Thank you for reading.**


	9. I messed up (big time)

**Yay! I'm motivated enough to write another chapter! Be proud! Ok so I want you all to enjoy this chapter and please tell me what you think. Reviews are critical **

He was running. From what? He had no idea, he just knew he had to get the hell out of there. He could hear them chasing him and before he could take another step, hands were grabbing at his back. He screamed, they had him.

They were yelling his name. "Stiles!" They were talking, he couldn't understand them.

And all at once, Stiles came back to his senses. He was sitting on someone's lap and their hands were wrapped around his torso, keeping him from thrashing around and possibly hurting himself.

Stiles breathing was heavy and he tried to relax but that crushing feeling weighed him down and he knew a panic attack was soon to follow.

A stubbled jaw rubbed against his neck and lightly kissed him.

"It's ok Stiles, I'm here. It was just a dream," Derek said in a soft voice (seriously, when was Derek capable of being soft?).

Stiles' breathing was still out of control and he whined (he was not proud of it but come on, he couldn't breathe!).

"Focus on my voice, ok? Just breathe with me. In. Out."

Stiles tried, he really did. He felt hot tears of pure frustration threaten to fall down his cheeks but he stopped himself from crying. He was already pathetic enough, Derek didn't need to see him cry again.

The teen hadn't even realized he was blacking out until Derek's hands were shaking him awake.

"Don't go to sleep, Stiles."

His head drooped. He couldn't breathe and he just wanted to go to sleep, to leave this world behind and not think about anything anymore.

There those hands were again, shaking him to stay awake. He tried to weakly swat them away. He just wanted to sleep dammit!

The hands stopped their movement then he was laid down and lips were at his neck.

They trailed kisses along his prominent collar bone and his jaw and suddenly he was wide awake and able to breathe.

"Derek, I'm…ok now, I think," Stiles said.

Derek looked up from his position (he had his knees on either side of Stiles' body, trying his best to calm him).

The alpha rested his head on Stile's chest.

"I heard you heart beat quicken and then you were thrashing and then you were screaming and thank the gods your father wasn't home or I'd be a very dead werewolf," he said, words slightly muffled by Stiles' shirt.

The teen absent-mindedly carded his hands through Derek's hair.

"Thank you Derek, you…really helped me."

Derek just nodded. Stiles glanced at his alarm clock. 4:45am.

Derek got off of Stiles chest (he didn't like putting all of his weight on the teen, he was far too fragile) and laid on his side, pulling Stiles into a hug.

They sat in comfortable silence. Stiles knew it was pointless to fake sleep but that didn't stop him from trying. Roughly an hour later Derek finally spoke, knowing that Stiles wasn't asleep.

"What was the dream about?"

Stiles paused. "The same shit as always."

They ended up staying in bed until seven, neither of them could go back to sleep after the nightmare/panic attack from earlier. For the last hour or so, Derek had been running his fingers up and down Stiles' side and stomach, mentally counting the ribs and bones that jutted out of his skin. He could feel scars too. Dozens of scars on his sides and stomach. It made his wolf cry out in defeat.

Stiles was the first to sit up in bed, Derek quickly followed.

"Well do you want to go or…?" Stiles said, he prepared himself for disappointment.

Derek said nothing. Instead, he got up and headed towards the door to the bedroom.

Stiles put his head down and stared at the carpet. Of course Derek didn't want to stay with him.

"I'm going to take a shower. Where are the towels?"

Stiles' head shot up. "What?"

Derek raised one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows and pulled a face that said, Really? You want me to repeat that?

Stiles got off the bed and smiled.

TNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTN

Fifteen minutes later, Stiles sat at his desk, nervously bouncing his leg.

His arms were itchy so he had went down stairs and threw the bandages in the rubbish bin. The cuts he had made last night were rimmed with red and still very sensitive to the touch. It was very obvious which cuts were more recent.

He was on his computer, looking at the assignments he was missing from skipping school. He chewed the end of his pencil, his anxiety was high.

Why did Derek have to be so kind? Why wasn't he mad at him for being worthless? Why-

"Stop it," said a voice from behind him.

Stiles jumped out of his chair and flailed (very gracefully), knocking over the piece of furniture.

"Stop what?"

Derek sat on the edge of his bed, hair dripping water. Stiles watched a particular drop race down his temple and stop at his jaw line. He started lacing up his boots.

"I could smell the anxiety from the bathroom. You are just working yourself up. Just stop thinking."

Stiles righted his chair again and took a seat.

"Dude, it doesn't work like that."

Derek raised an eyebrow (damn he was a fine specimen of a human being).

"First of all, don't call me 'dude' and second, did you take your medicine yet?" Derek asked.

"Nope," Stiles said, popping the p.

The alpha stood up and starting walking out the door. When Stiles didn't follow, Derek stopped.

"Stiles, come on. You are going to eat something and then take your medicine."

"But I'm not even hungryyyyyy," Stiles whined.

"Well too bad."

Stiles decided on making pasta (his most favorite meal ever). Derek offered to help but the teen refused it. He enjoyed cooking and unlike most aspects of his awkward teenage life, he was good at cooking and somewhat, dare he say, graceful in the kitchen.

The older male watched in fascination as Stiles moved around the kitchen. His clumsy hands were replaced with fluid movements that made mundane tasks look like dancing.

Stiles was lost in his head, he had almost forgot that Derek was sitting at the bar.

He poured the noodles into the boiling water and added olive oil. Some of the liquid got onto his hands and before he noticed, it was too late. He picked up a glass and the thing slipped right out of his hands.

Derek was off of the chair in a second. Stiles had bent down to pick up the pieces and before the alpha saw the blood, he smelled it.

"Stiles, get your hands away from the glass," Derek said, bending down and taking Stiles now bleeding hand.

"Sorry, it slipped and yeah, sorry," Stiles stammered.

Derek said nothing and examined the cut. It was across his palm.

"It's fine, now stand up. We need to wash it out."

They stood and Derek told Stiles to pull up his sleeves. Hesitantly, the teen did.

The two men were leaning over the sink, Stiles' bloody hand was being held by Derek's larger one.

The alpha stared at his arms. He knew but he said nothing.

In silence Derek cleaned the cut and applied multiple band aids.

Stiles was internally freaking out. Derek clearly knew about the new cuts so why wasn't he saying anything?

Derek picked up the glass with a broom and dustpan while Stiles finished the pasta. In silence. Like, super uncomfortable, I-know-what-you-did-but-I'm-not-saying-anything-because-I-want-you-to-know-I-know- kind of silence.

They finished the meal almost twenty minutes later. Derek was watching Stiles the entire meal and when he was done he pushed away his plate and crossed his arms. He waited for the teen to finish before talking.

"Stiles."

Stiles had his head down and was doing a fine job of ignoring the tension (you know, he preferred ignoring the problem until it eventually went away on its own). He looked at Derek.

"Yes?"

"Stiles. Why?"

The teen in question looked back down at his empty plate.

"..."

"Excuse me, I didn't quite understand that," Derek said. He most certainly heard that, werewolf hearing remember?

"I said, I'm sorry."

"I didn't ask if you were sorry, I asked why you did it."

"Derek, I…I just did it, ok? I'm aware I could have come to you. I just wanted to do it. And this thing between us, well, I'm not even sure what this is," he gestured to the both of them.

"I'm just not entirely sure I can trust you. For the longest time I thought you hated me. Now we are cuddling and kissing and that is not being addressed, like, at all. I need to know where we stand."

Derek said nothing but his eyes glowed red. He stood up and walked to the front door. Stiles sat there, completely stunned as the front door slammed shut.

He put his head in his hands. Why did he have to mess everything up?

He dejectedly put away the dishes. God. Dammit. Why was everything in his life confusing?

Stiles walked to his room and grabbed his phone. It was now 9am.

One missed call and a voice mail.

He listened to the message.

"_Hey man, it's Scott. I can't come over today. Deaton needed me at the vet and I'm sorry. Tomorrow though, definitely."_

Stiles was about to delete the message when he heard a very feminine giggle at the end of the recording. He ended the message and threw the phone against the wall. He thought things would be different between him and his best friend but no. Stiles was always the one to be ditched because of a girl.

He took a deep breath and it took all of his strength of will not to go get his razor.

He went back to the kitchen and decided to clean. That always helped him clear his mind. He went under the sink and got out the floor cleaner. He pulled out a bottle but it wasn't the cleaner, it was a bottle of alcohol.

**Ha, remember in the last chapter when his father said that he kept a bottle under the sink? Well, it was kinda important. Anyways, this was a longer chapter than usual so enjoy it.**


	10. I want you (I want you so bad)

**Yay, I'm super motivated right now. Enjoy this chapter and please remember to review!**

Derek stormed out of the house. He had parked his Camaro down the street (out of sight from the sheriff, he had no desire to get shot for being alone with his under aged son).

Once actually driving the vehicle his thoughts resumed to the previous discussion. He didn't mean to run out so angry but he did. He was just mad (more specifically his wolf was mad and his human side was just going along with the emotion, letting the wolf take control. Something Derek tried not to do too often). How could Stiles not know about Derek's feelings towards him? Did the teen think he kissed and touched just anyone? Of course he didn't, they had to be special. And Stiles was the most special person Derek had ever known. He was his mate for Christ's sake.

He grit his teeth, he could feel his canines elongating and he dug his fingernails into the steering wheel. God. Dammit.

In retrospect, maybe it was Derek's fault. He hadn't really explained the whole mate thing but in the moment it's easy to forget one's own part of the blame.

Derek figured he would be cooled off enough but nighttime and he'd go see Stiles and maybe apologize. The alpha would kiss him and explain that Stiles was his one and only. Then everything would be ok. He had no idea what was to come.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Stiles just sat on the kitchen floor, staring at the bottle of booze in his hand. He shouldn't…

He stood up and put the bottle on the counter. He would have to weigh the pros and the cons of drinking so he decided to finish what he was doing before he found the bottle.

Stiles started with the kitchen. He took his time hand washing the dishes (even though they had a dish washer) and set them out to dry. And maybe while he was doing them he let the water get a little too hot. And maybe he liked the way it felt on his skin.

He then swept the floor and mopped, after he was done the dishes were put back in their respective places. He took everything out of the cupboards and washed them down with disinfectant and organized the items and put them away again in different places, feeling like changing things up a bit (his dad probably wouldn't even notice that some things were switched around but Stiles could tell and that's all that mattered).

At three his dad was supposed to be home. At three thirty the home phone rang. He didn't want to talk to anyone so he let the machine pick it up.

"Hey son, it's your dad. I really hope the reason you're not picking up is because you're still asleep. I know I was supposed to be home by now but I'm working a double tonight so you'll see me at six or seven in the morning. I'm really sorry. I wanted to try and spend some time with you but it looks like that won't happen right now. Anyway, I love you and I'll see you in the morning."

Stiles sighed and deleted the message. Oh well.

Next came the laundry. He went into his dad's room and his room and collected all of the dirty clothes and even stripped the linens off of their beds (there was nothing better than coming home from a long day of work with cleans sheets).

While the laundry was being done he moved on to vacuuming every patch of carpet in the house. Then the bathrooms were cleaned out (seriously, two dudes in one house equaled two very gross bathrooms). By the time he had cleaned the entire house it was already 7 o' clock and he felt better. Not good but at least a little better.

The teen took a seat at the bar and sat and just watched the bottle of alcohol, thinking that the inanimate object could have the answers to all of his problems.

Pro: he would feel amazing.

Con: his dad might find out.

Pro: he could stop thinking for a while.

Con: his hangover would suck (he had his mother's ability to handle alcohol which was close to zero).

Pro: alcohol. Duh. It's pretty awesome.

Con: …?

Well, he had his answer. He got up and walked around the bar. The teen took the drink in his hand and unscrewed the lid. Before he had time to rethink his decision, he knocked the bottle back and took a big swig.

He coughed once and had to hold onto the counter for support as the need to vomit overtook him. The fit passed and there was a warm sensation throughout his body as the alcohol started to take effect.

He stood like that at the counter for a good ten minutes before preparing himself for the bad taste again.

He drank deeply and sat the bottle on the counter, wiping the small amount that ran dribbled down his chin.

Stiles sighed in contentment. He was warm and for once his mind contained no real thoughts, just happy static. His anxiety melted away, maybe if he kept going it would get better?

He grabbed the bottle and went to his room. The glass that was almost full was now half way through and he kept chugging.

His couldn't focus on anything and when he shut his eyes if felt like the world was spinning and he liked it.

It wasn't enough for Stiles though; somewhere in his mind there was a nagging sensation that said this was so _wrong_. It told him to apologize to Derek or at least call him to make sure the alpha was alright. He told the voice to shut up and if there was someone in the house they would think he was insane because he was actually saying it aloud, thinking that the increased volume would help drown out the noise in his head.

It started becoming scary at eight. It was scary because all of the fears and anxieties that a normal person should have vanished, leaving a person that was afraid of nothing.

Stiles searched his medicine cabinet and took out some Delsym and after downing half of the bitter liquid; he shoved it back in the box and closed the door.

At nine thirty he sat on the floor of the living room and cried. Derek hated him. Scott abandoned him. He was gay (he had come to terms with that fact a long time ago, realizing his feelings for Lydia were strictly platonic) which in itself wasn't bad but the fact that he had yet to come out to his dad scared him. Erica and Boyd were planning on leaving the pack (it was so obvious but the teen was the only one who noticed it). Jackson was a dick to everyone (many times Stiles had come home bruised from his werewolf ass not being able to reign in his super-doucheness). Allison was slowly stealing his best friend (it wasn't all her fault though, Scott was part of the blame too) and Isaac was crushing on Scott (even though no one noticed it). He was a worthless human and even though the pack had said they cared for him, he just couldn't see it. Why else would they leave him all alone the day after he almost over-dosed on medication? Not one of them had even bothered to call or text him (sure, he hadn't checked his phone in a while but that meant nothing to him at the present moment).

His life was so far beyond messed up that he didn't know anyway of fixing it.

He sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Stiles staggered up the stairs and into his bedroom. He grabbed the bottle and drank heavily, leaving maybe an inch of the liquid left. A sudden fit of anger overtook him and he smashed the bottle on the wall. He walked over in his bare feet, not even feeling the glass digging into the skin. He picked up a shard and squeezed. He couldn't feel it.

The teen stumbled to the bathroom and took out the razor he had hidden, leaving a trail of bloody foot prints. He slumped against the tub. Stiles was vaguely aware of the glass in his feet but he was too far gone to care.

This was it. He knew if he cut enough the pain would go away.

He lifted up his sleeves and through drunken eyes realized that there wasn't enough room. He pulled up his pants leg to the knee (even his skinny jeans weren't skinny enough for his legs).

Stiles dragged the razor against his leg so slow he whined in pain (now this he could feel). The next cut was faster and deeper. He gasped in pleasure.

After the fourth cut he sat and watched the blood well up and spill onto his leg, then onto the tiled floor. He had never drank and cut before. It was the best thing he had done in a long time.

Even after his head was empty once again, he kept cutting.

He would alternate between agonizingly slow and so fast it stung.

After his whole leg was covered in the red liquid, he pulled his pants leg down; giving no thought to the blood that would surely stain.

He stood up to quickly and it was a mixture of the cough syrup, the alcohol, and the head rush that cutting caused and maybe even blood loss that made him fall backwards, his head connecting with the tub.

The teen must have blacked out because when he came to his vision was even foggier than before and the urge to retch came back with a vengeance. He had just enough time to sit up and puke into the toilet. If he thought the rum was bad going down, he had never tasted anything like the liquid death that came back up.

He sat leaning over the toilet and wiped his mouth with a towel.

Stiles was a stupid drunk and he attempted standing up again (almost forgetting the faat that he had literally just fallen), this time slowly. He felt the back of his head and his fingers came back wet.

It took him a moment to register that this was potentially a serious injury but whatever. He threw caution to the wind (hadn't he done that already? _Shut up sarcastic voice,_ Stiles thought).

That was his biggest mistake however. He was about to go downstairs to…what was he going to do again? He was on the steps when his foggy vision got the best of him and he missed a step. Only one thought raced through his mind as he began to fall.

_I love Derek. I hope he loves me._

**I'm so proud of myself, I've been writing longer chapters. So tell me what you think**_._


	11. You should have (taken care of me)

**Yay, I'm getting reviews, which makes me very happy. I'm glad you all liked the last chapter, it was **_**very**_** depressing.**

Derek sighed. He pulled into the parking lot for his loft. Maybe he should go back? He thought against it and walked up to his home. He sighed again and opened the sliding door.

For the next hour he tried to immerse himself in whatever crappy TV show that was on (it just happened to be Stiles favorite, Supernatural. Seriously, why did the teen like it so much? The characters were so unrealistic). He just continued thinking of Stiles and his dumb laugh and the sad look in his eyes the moment Derek walked out of the house.

The alpha's phone began to ring and he just sighed (what was with him and sighing? He must be super broody to sigh that much).

Not even bothering to read the ID, he rejected the call. He really didn't feel like talking to Scott (that's probably who it was).

He shouldn't have gotten mad at Stiles like that. He realized this, two hours later. His phone kept buzzing but he paid it no mind. It couldn't have been that important.

Derek decided to go and see Stiles, he had to make things right.

He turned off the TV and went to his Camaro.

The drive to the Stilinski residence was far shorter than usual (he was doing 85 in a 55. Oops).

The moment he pulled into the driveway he knew something was wrong, the odor of blood was pungent in the air.

He expected to walk into the house (using the door this time because he felt like being a civilized person) and find the aftermath of one of Stiles cutting episodes so imagine the shock he got when he opened the door.

The house was dark and if it wasn't for his super werewolf vision he wouldn't be able to see. If he thought the smell of blood was strongest on the outside, he thought wrong.

It smelled like a distillery that murdered someone with an axe. He walked to the stairs and a wave of nausea hit him like a passenger bus. That was Stiles' blood. His mate's blood.

He began walking up the wooden steps until he slipped on something. On his knees now, he felt around on the floor, his fingers coming back wet.

Derek began listening for a heartbeat in the house but there were none.

His phone buzzed for the fifth time and he couldn't get it out of his pocket quick enough.

"What the hell, man? Where are you? I've been calling for two hours now! It's Stiles, he-"

Derek growled, effectively cutting Scott off from his ramble.

"Slow down Scott, tell me what happened."

"Well, it's Stiles. He called me and he sounded super out of it. He just said he was hurt and to come get him. I came and he was laying by the foot the stairs, there was blood everywhere. I carried him to my car and took him to the hospital. He smelled like alcohol and sadness."

"Is that where you are now?" Derek said, getting up and running to the door.

"Yes, he's in surgery. Derek, where the hell were you? We talked and you said you'd stay with him. He told me he called you but you wouldn't pick up. Dammit Derek, he needed you. What was so important that you left him there?"

Derek stayed silent; he was in his car, already driving to the hospital. He couldn't exactly say the reason he wasn't picking up was because there was an intense part of Supernatural and he couldn't miss it (okay, so maybe he admits that it is a good show).

"Well Scott, weren't you supposed to come see him today and hang out with him? Don't pin this all on me. You are part of the blame too."

"Well whatever, just get here," and with that, the angry beta hung up.

Derek arrived ten minutes later, running into the emergency room to find the sheriff and Scott waiting.

He walked up to the pair. The sheriff was glaring at him.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell happened to my son? I'm not just talking about this incident either. I've noticed a complete change in him these last couple of months. I want answers. Now," the sheriff demanded.

Scott looked away, Derek didn't. He stood his ground like the alpha he was.

"Sir, there are…things that you can't exactly know about, things I can't explain-"

The sheriff did that mock laugh that said are-you-fucking-kidding-me?

"Well then start explaining, son. I need to know why my only living kin is in that operating room." Papa Stilinski was stage whispering, not wanting to be kicked out.

"Sir, I can't-"

Someone cleared their throat behind them and all three eyes turned to see the doctor.

"Are you family of Genim Stilinski?"

The sheriff nodded. Scott, who always laughed at hearing Stiles' first name, was silent.

"It's nice to see you sheriff, unfortunately it couldn't have been under better circumstances. Well, as for Stiles, he just got out of surgery. He has a severe concussion caused by a blow to the head… that lesion needed stitches. A few fractured ribs, a broken wrist that is going to be in a cast for a while and he had multiple…cuts on his arms and legs that needed stitches. It looks like some of the cuts were old and they got infected which caused a fever, he's on a course of antibiotics at the moment to prevent further infection."

The doctor flipped the pages on the chart he was holding and continued talking.

"There seemed to be glass embedded in his feet, which was removed. Umm, let's see…he has been suffering from malnutrition and dehydration for…what appears to be quite a while so he's getting an IV and feeding tube…besides some other serious bruises, that's it." The doctor lowered the clip board and looked at John.

"He's lucky to be alive. From what his friend told me, a fall down the stairs can be fatal. And he was drinking which makes matters worse; he was completely unaware of his surroundings when he was brought in. This was very dangerous, sheriff. He lost a lot of blood."

He looked at Derek and Scott. "And I have some information regarding long term treatment, if he needs it."

John's brow furrowed. "What do you mean long term treatment? Like physical therapy?"

The doctor shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable. Derek knew what was coming.

"Sheriff, you son has a serious self-harm problem. And we tested his blood and there were elevated levels of amphetamine and dextroamphetamine, things found in Adderall and many over the counter cold medications. And his blood alcohol level was .21, which is very dangerous for a teenager his size. Did you think that maybe this was a suicide attempt?"

John said nothing; he just stared at the floor. The doctor realized the sheriff's sudden shift in mood and nodded to Derek and Scott.

"He's sleeping but when you're ready you can go to his room, 213 B," he said before turning around and heading back the way he came.

The broken version of the sheriff clumsily took a seat in one of the chairs lined against the wall and put his face in his hands.

The other two males took the seats next to him and simply waited for him to speak.

"How long have you known about this?"

Scott said nothing, he was honestly confused. Stiles was a cutter? _His_ Stiles. Sure he had a bit of a substance abuse problem but what teenager didn't?

"Sir, I suspected something for a while and my fears were confirmed a few days ago. I found him in the bathroom."

The sheriff sat up and chuckled. "I was wondering why the bathroom door was busted. And Derek, don't call me 'sir', I'm not that old yet. Call me John."

Derek nodded.

Finally Scott spoke. "So you knew about this and you didn't tell me? I'm his best friend, you don't even like him."

"Well Scott, I was waiting for him to tell you. Obviously he didn't trust you enough with that information."

"Boys, stop fighting. You're being children. Derek forgot to mention it to both of us. Now we can focus on helping Stiles."

John stood up. "Let's go see my boy."

Stiles looked broken. That was the only way to describe him. His skin was the color of the sheets, pure white. The only color on his face were the dark circles under his eyes.

His wrist was in a cast, propped up on a pillow to his right (he was going to have a field day when he found out he broke the wrist attached to his dominant hand).

Endless tubes and wires were connected to various parts of his body. His torso was exposed to reveal even whiter skin and multiple bruises across the entire expanse of his ribs. A feeding tube was connected to his stomach, supplying his body with valuable nutrients. The scars on his stomach and sides were almost hidden by the wires. Almost. John still saw the marks left from the past.

Derek silently thanked the doctors for completely gauzing up his frail arms, hiding the evidence of what he had done from the sheriff. The poor man didn't need to see that. Derek stood behind him, waiting for him to collapse from the shock at any moment.

Scott knew what lay on his legs and feet under the thin blanket. He had seen the teen's blood soaked pants (he thought it was a result of the fall, he didn't think that Stiles was capable of doing this to himself).

John pulled the chair from the corner of the room up to the bed. He took his son's hand in his own and stared at the motionless face (it was all wrong, Stiles wasn't supposed to be still, he was supposed to be up and moving a mile a minute).

Derek crossed his arms and leaned against the window, feeling very guilty. Scott took the chair on the other side of the bed.

"We need to call the rest of the pack and tell then what happened.," Derek said after a long and silent minute.

**Here you go my lovelies. I was getting so many reviews last night, thank you sooo much!**


	12. In the hospital (with family)

**As always, thank you for the reviews! Don't worry everyone, Sterek will happen eventually.**

John was extremely confused.

"Wait, pack? Like a pack of wolves?" The sheriff scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Can't you be normal people and just say a group of friends?"

Scott shifted awkwardly in his seat. He looked to his alpha to see what to do next. Were they actually going to tell the sheriff?

There was a knock to the open door and standing in the entrance was Scott's mom, Melissa.

"Am I interrupting something?"

John shook his head.

She walked in and stood next to Scott, putting her hand on her son's shoulder.

"I was working in the children's wing tonight when I heard about him being brought in. I'm so sorry John."

The sheriff nodded, tears forming in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He kept his hold on Stiles' hand, stroking it with his thumb.

"He's a tough kid, he'll make it through."

Derek stared at the woman. He doubted she even knew he was there. The only light in the room came from the one over the hospital bed and he stood in the shadows.

Melissa knew about the supernatural, she knew that Scott was in a pack and that Derek was the alpha. They still had very little interaction.

Scott looked up at his mom.

"Do you know when he'll wake up?"

Melissa bit her lip. "It could be an hour or it could be a day. I don't really know."

She looked at the IV and her eyes widened. Scott knew that look, someone was about to be yelled at. "What I do know is that some idiot allowed his Oxycodone to run out."

The three males watched as she walked out of the door. With their werewolf hearing, they could hear her screaming 'Brenda! Get your as- butt over here'.

A minute later a nurse walked in and changed the empty drip. John thanked Melissa.

"No problem, I've got to run. I'll see you guys later," and with that she was gone.

John cracked his knuckles and tried rolling his neck, stiffness was developing and he wanted to nip it in the bud.

"Anyway where were we? Oh yeah, before you call the other riff raff I want to know…things."

Derek cleared his throat. "What kinds of things?"

The sheriff turned so he was facing the younger male.

"Well let's see, what the fuck is killing my son? And don't give me that 'I don't know' bullshit. You are clearly the ringmaster of this gang Stiles seems to have gotten involved with." He said in a yelling-whisper (he really didn't want to get kicked out).

"Sir… I mean John, Stiles is not in a gang."

"Would you just tell him already? Mr. Stilinski is right, it's killing Stiles," the sheriff turned back around and looked at Scott.

"Tell me what?"

Derek pulled that face that was a mix of a glare and a pout. He didn't want to involve the sheriff but it seemed he had no choice.

"John, Scott and I are werewolves. Stiles is in a pack with us. Don't worry though, he's human."

The sheriff looked at the alpha in extreme confusion.

Scott decided to chime in. "Derek, it's not just a pack of wolves. Let's see…Stiles is a human and so is Allison but she is a hunter and um Lydia is a banshee. Not to mention the fact that Jackson used to be a kanima."

John's confusion soon turned to anger. He stood up and walked to the front of the hospital bed, leaning heavily against it, with his hands holding on to the railing.

He gestured to Stiles. "My son almost died tonight, hell, he might still be dying. And you idiots think it's ok to joke around? Well, I'm not laughing."

Scott looked to his alpha for help. Well this could have gone better.

"Mr. Stilinski, really, we are telling the truth. Doesn't that explain all of the lying and sneaking around? Doesn't that explain why he gets nightmares and gets hurt a lot? Well the hurt part doesn't always have to do with werewolves, he is kind of clumsy."

The sheriff was getting ready to reprimand Scott and tell him to stop it with the lying until there was a growl to left. He looked and the breath caught in his throat.

The space where Derek had previously been standing was now occupied by a monster. Its face was hairy on the jaws and sharp teeth were seen through its open mouth. The hands that were at its sides had long and sharp claws made for separating flesh from bone. Red eyes stared back at him.

John reached for the gun in his belt. Scott stood up when he saw the motion.

Derek put his hands up in surrender. "You can shoot me sheriff. I will not harm you."

The sheriff flinched at hearing Derek's voice.

John lowered his hand. "I'm not going to shoot you, son."

And before the oldest male knew it, the encounter was over. Derek shifted back to his human form.

John made it back to his seat and there were a few moments of intense silence before the sheriff spoke.

"So, you weren't lying. Werewolves are real."

Both Scott and Derek nodded.

"And Stiles is in a pack with his friends."

Derek shook his head. "No, he is in a pack with his family."

John leaned back and crossed his arms. All this looking back and forth was getting on his nerves; Derek could just deal with the sheriff not looking at him.

"Well then we all screwed up. None of us noticed what he was going through. Sure I knew about the nightmares and panic attacks but the kid has been getting them since his mom died years ago and I figured it was one of those things he would cope with."

Scott reached forward and tentatively took Stiles unbroken hand. They had failed him.

Derek could smell the guilt coming off of the two males. Sure he felt guilty (seriously, he felt really guilty) but he was the alpha, he was the one to shoulder the blame, not these two.

"If it's any consolation, Stiles didn't want you to know. Both of you are aware of the fact that if he doesn't want something, he will try his hardest to make it not happen. And it just so happened to be that he didn't want us to know how much he was hurting. He hid behind smiles and jokes as what we were doing was killing him on the inside."

Scott and John nodded.

A small smile spread across John's face. He gently put his hand over Stiles' thin one, being mindful of the cast was almost to the tips of his fingers.

"He has always been like that. He's just too smart for his own good."

The boy in the bed's eye lids shuttered and then his hand twitched. John looked at his face excitedly.

"Why is it that when I'm asleep, people feel the need to talk about me," said a weak voice. The three in the room could tell it was a joke but his voice lacked any energy.

John said a silent and quick prayer. He leaned forward, getting up from his chair slightly and kissing the teen's forehead.

"Oh Stiles, you scared me half to death."

Big, honey colored eyes looked up at his dad. His father's heart broke, those were his mother's eyes and suddenly he felt like he was losing her all over again.

"I'm sorry dad," he said with tears in his eyes. His voice was so quiet, why did it have to be so quiet?

Scott squeezed Stiles' hand. "I'm sorry man, I should have been there."

Stiles squeezed his hand back; if one could even call it that (his friend was on so many medicines he was actually surprised he was awake and talking, let alone squeezing his hand). "I know you love Allison," Scott's back went rigid; the teen knew where he actually was? "Just, please stop blowing me off every chance you get. I miss you; we never get to hang out."

Scott nodded, his throat felt like it was closing and his eyes burned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember cleaning and then drinking but that's about it. Everything after is pure blackness."

His dad started pulling at the sticker that was on the handle of his chair, unsure about how to go on with his next question.

"Son was this…a um, suicide attempt?"

"Oh god, dad no. No, it wasn't. I'm stupid but not that stupid. I promise, it was an accident and boozed up Stiles is really dumb."

The sheriff let out a sigh of relief. "Ok I believe you."

Stiles looked between his father and his best friend. "So I guess you guys know about the self-harm?"

They both nodded. Stiles was starting to get fidgety, he looked at the wires attached to his body and suddenly became very aware of the fact that his chest was bare and there was a huge ass tube sticking out of his stomach. A feeding tube. Of. Fucking. Course.

Stiles tried to sit up but his dad put his hand on his son's shoulder, keeping him down.

"I wouldn't do that, you have broken ribs."

He looked down at his exposed torso and touched the wires that were going into his body. John could sense his discomfort and pulled the sheet up to his neck.

Derek cleared his throat and Stiles turned his head to the source of the noise. His eyes went wide.

In a small voice he said, "Derek?"

The alpha stepped forward into the light (it was so Derek-like, emerging from the shadows. Even then Stiles still thought he was cool).

John's sheriff skills were tingling. "Stiles, son, are you ok? Are you in any pain? I can go get the doctor for you…?"

Stiles broke eye contact with Derek and looked at his father. "I'm just really thirsty, if you could get me a drink that would be awesome."

John nodded and glared at Scott. The teen just looked confused.

The sheriff rolled his eyes, he loved the kid to death but his IQ left something to be desired.

"Scott, why don't you help me? I think we could all use some drinks and I need more arms."

Scott's brow furrowed and suddenly, finally, he got the hint. He awkwardly looked at Stiles and Derek (Derek was glaring at the beta) and shuffled out of the room with the sheriff.

The older male took the opportunity to creep the rest of the way to the bed and sit on the edge.

"Soooooooo," Stiles said, not knowing what to say (that was a shock). Derek looked at Stiles' face but quickly looked away.

"Stiles, I'm sorry," he said, staring out the window.

"Derek, you shouldn't be sorry. I'm the one who said those things to you to make you storm out. Besides, I was the one who did all of that stuff. No need to be sorry, it's ok."

Derek actually broke his gaze and turned towards the teen.

"No Stiles, it's not ok. I said I'd help you through this. I said I wouldn't leave you alone. I was the one who stormed out of your house, knowing what it would do to you. I let my emotions control me. As your alpha and as your friend, I am sorry."

Stiles nodded. He started shifting, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Derek helped him slowly sit up and adjusted the pillows behind his back.

He licked his lips, still looking at Derek. "So you never did answer my question. What are we?"

"This," Derek leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stiles.

He licked along his bottom lip, sucking at it.

Stiles eagerly pushed his tongue past Derek's lips and they continued like that for a minute before they had to come up for air. One of Derek's hands rested on Stiles' neck, the other was at his back, trying to keep him in a sitting position.

The alpha pulled away. "Does that answer your question?"

Stiles' cheeks and ears turned red. He nodded, "Yeah, that does."

"Ummm…"

Two heads turned to the doorway where Scott stood with his mouth opened and the sheriff just looked awkward. The sheriff held a cup while their other hands held juice boxes.

Derek moved off of the bed. Scott walked into the room and stared at Stiles in disbelief.

He pointed at Derek with a hand that held two boxes of juice (juice hands). "What the hell did I just see? Uhhh, I'm never going to get that sight out of my head. Why why why?"

Stiles shrugged. John smiled and walked the rest of the way into the room. He handed Stiles the cup.

"I asked the nurse and she said you only get ice chips."

Stiles thanked his dad. He looked at the cup in his hand and his other hand that was covered by the cast. He had a problem.

Wordlessly, Derek moved back to his place on the edge of the bed. He took the cup from Stiles and fished out an ice cube. Stiles just stared at him and opened his mouth.

John and Scott just stood and watched.

The sheriff walked around the bed and put Derek's juice down on the bedside table. The alpha nodded in thanks.

Scott was glaring at Derek (who met his gaze with complete indifference) when his phone rang.

Derek could hear the frantic female voice on the other side.

"Scott, I think someone took Stiles. The whole pack is here at his house and there's blood and we can't get a hold of Derek and Stiles' phone is still here. Allison said you got a frantic call and had to leave and now here we are and there is nothing, just a shit ton of blood."

"You guys, Stiles wasn't taken. Me and Derek and his dad are here with him at the hospital. Stuff happened, like bad stuff happened, and he got hurt."

Derek heard silence followed by multiple voices and then Lydia's voice could be heard again.

"And you didn't think to tell us sooner, McCall? What is wrong with you?"

Derek chuckled and John turned to face him, a shocked expression on his face.

"Did I just hear Derek Hale chuckle?"

Derek said nothing.

"We are coming to the hospital. Be there in ten."

The female hung up the phone.

Stiles, completely unaware of the seven betas that were about to storm the hospital, looked at Scott. "Who was it?"

Scott shuffled on his feet before taking a seat, opening a juice box with practiced precision. "Umm wrong number."

**So this was the longest chapter I have ever written. Cherish and enjoy it.**


	13. Things will change (for the better)

**Ok everyone, so here it is! This is probably going to be the longest chapter and there will be some stuff in it. Read to find out!**

True to her word, Lydia and the rest of the pack showed up at the hospital ten minutes later. Melissa took one look at the group and gestured for them to follow. As they shuffled onto the elevator, she spoke.

"I could get into some serious trouble for this. Stiles is only supposed to be seeing family and only in groups of two. So what this means is there will be no fighting or arguing," she looked back at Jackson and Erica, knowing full well that they were the trouble makers, "and you guys have to remember things. Bad stuff happened to Stiles, he probably already feels crappy because of the pain so I don't want you making him feel any worse."

They all got off the elevator and walked down the corridor, the group getting strange looks from some of the doctors on the way to his room.

Isaac made it to the front of the group and tapped Scott's mom on the shoulder.

"Um, Melissa? What happened to Stiles?"

She stopped in front of the closed door. With tears in her eyes, she turned to face the group.

"You'll find out," she opened the door.

Stiles looked up to see the pack walk through the door. All of the wolves in the room could hear his heart beat pick up.

He instantly put on his 'mask' because that's exactly what it was. Derek was the only one in the room that could see through it. He knew because he could smell the fear and stress coming off of everyone and that smell lessened the moment he smiled. 'If he smiles, he must be okay.'

He waved with his unbroken hand while Boyd was the last one to get into the room.

Lydia was at the foot of the bed, pouting with her arms crossed.

"Stiles, you have some explaining to do. I…I felt you dying."

Realizing her mistake, she looked at Mr. Stilinski, sitting next to Stiles.

"It's fine Lydia, Derek and Scott told me everything. I know about your little pack of werewolves and banshees and kantimas." Stiles looked at his dad in surprise, John shrugged.

"Kanimas," Jackson corrected. Erica rolled her eyes.

Lydia continued. "Next thing I knew I was in front of your house. I screamed. I was not going to be the one to discover your body, so I waited for the rest of the pack to show up."

All of the betas nodded, except for Scott, who had not heard her banshee cry. "Yeah, we heard it and rushed to her. That's when we went into your house and saw the blood," Isaac said.

"Derek wasn't answering his phone," Erica said, glaring at Derek. Anyone but the alpha would have shrunk under her stare.

"Stiles, I'm sorry. I know I said I'd let you have more time with Scott, it's just that my dad was out of town and we had the apartment to ourselves…" Erica made a gagging motion and Jackson winked at Scott.

"Allison, it's fine. Me and Scott talked about it, everything is ok."

"Everything is most certainly not okay. What happened to you, Stilinski?" Lydia said, keeping her arms crossed.

Stiles scratched his head with his unbroken hand. "Well you see, there was this bottle of alcohol and I'm not the strongest drinker and there was a fall down the stairs and yeah that's it…"

"Stiles," Derek growled from his position against the window.

"Well fine, you don't have to be rude. Guys, I haven't been doing okay. Like, at all. I think Lydia and Scott are the only ones that know about the panic attacks I've been having recently. And there are these nightmares that make it impossible to go to sleep. So there it's a combination of sleep deprivation and fear and anxiety that has led me to, well, self-harm…and I guess that's where the drug abuse comes in too." Stiles watched for all of their reactions.

Erica and Boyd stood next to each other, his arm was on her waist and Stiles could see him squeezing her (if she wasn't a werewolf, he was sure Erica would have been suffocating). She just looked sad; tears were forming in her eyes. Allison stood next to Scott, much in the same position as Erica and Boyd except he was sitting. She looked pretty close to tears herself and she bent and gently kissed his forehead. Isaac had his arms crossed over his chest, looking down. Jackson, who stood next to Lydia, was grabbing the railing at the bottom of the bed, his knuckles were white. And finally Lydia, she had her arms crossed and this time tears were freely flowing. She never took her eyes off of Stiles.

Stiles put his head down. "You guys, I'm sorry. I know you must be super disappointed; it's just that…these were the only things that helped. Most of you never suspected anything was wrong so you never asked how I was doing. I was alone, I'm sorry…"

"Stiles, look at me."

He looked up and Lydia was at the side of the bed (Scott and Allison had moved back to let the red head pass).

She put her hand on his cheek. Derek had to keep from growling at seeing the girl touch Stiles.

"Stiles, we are not disappointed in you. I think we are all just…shocked. There was that incident a few days ago but we all chalked that up as you being a rebellious teenager, we didn't know that you were hurting this bad. We ignored you; we should be the ones who are sorry. We love you."

She leaned forward and hugged him as gently as she could, fearing he would break in her arms.

Over the next five minutes, everyone in the room gave him a hug and said their apologies.

As if on cue, the doctor walked in to see ten faces (two of which were supposed to be there). Uh-oh, busted (sorry Melissa).

He opened his mouth and looked down at the clipboard in his hand and did a double take on the room number.

John stood up and smiled. "Hello Doctor?"

The doctor continued looking at the sea of teenagers. "I'm going to go to the nurse's station and get a cup of coffee. By the time I get back, only those who should be here shall be here, right?"

The doctor turned and walked out. "Hey, tell us when you get sprung from this place ok?" Scott said on his way out the door. Everyone said goodbye and under two minutes it was just Stiles, his dad, and Derek (he refused to leave his mate's side. Anyway, the doctor wouldn't be able to see him in the shadows).

The doctor came back in a minute after that, a Styrofoam cup in one hand.

"So Genim-"

"Stiles, call him Stiles," his dad corrected. Stiles looked grateful.

"Okay, Stiles, how are you feeling?"

"My arms and legs feel like they are on fire, my chest hurts, and I have a major headache. And um, please get this feeding tube out of me, I feel like I'm going to explode."

The doctor nodded. "Well, the cuts will burn for a while. A great majority needed stitches; I can prescribe some ointment to help with the pain." The doctor opened up a cabinet and took out a thermometer as he talked.

"You had…three fractured ribs I believe. They will take some time to heal but I already have a prescription for some strong pain killers." He took the thermometer out of Stiles' mouth.

"Your fever is now low grade but you will have to remain on antibiotics while the rest of the cuts heal. Your head probably hurts from hitting it; we had to give you eight stitches."

_Really?_ Stiles thought. He reached up his unbroken hand to touch the spot on his head that was radiating the most pain, John had saw the move and caught Stiles hand, glaring at him while the doctor's back was turned.

John could practically hear Stiles argument for touching his head ('it's my head wound, let me touch it'). The sheriff released his hand and pointed, mouthing a firm 'no'. Stiles rolled his eyes.

The doctor turned back. "As for removing the feeding tube, I don't know if that's a good idea. A male teenager of 5'10 should weigh anywhere from 145-160 lbs. When you came in, you were barely at 105 lbs. And your BMI was less than 3%. Stiles, this is very dangerous."

The sheriff had his arms crossed over his chest. He looked lost.

"But, if you agree to use a meal plan that the dietician has set up, the feeding tube will be removed today. I just need your consent."

Stiles nodded.

"So doctor, when can we look at taking him home?" the sheriff asked.

"I would feel safe taking him home tomorrow night. Things could happen and I don't want him home just in case. The infection could return, his concussion could cause brain hemorrhaging. I'd just feel safer but as he is your son, you can check him out anytime you want."

John nodded, taking in the information.

"Ok, that's fine with me."

The doctor smiled. "I'll have a nurse come in and give you his prescriptions and care procedures and I'll have her remove the feeding tube, but the IVs will remain until your discharge. I'll see you in the morning Stiles."

They said goodbye and thank you and the doctor walked out.

Derek walked out of the shadows and took the chair that Scott had been sitting in. John took his son's hand.

"Stiles, please tell me you are actually going to try and…come to us when you feel like cutting or you feel like the world is caving in. I hate the idea of you suffering alone again. You do have people who care about you, even that pack of teenagers. We left you alone but no more."

Stiles nodded. Derek leaned forward and took Stiles other hand.

"You have me and I won't leave you again."

That was the end of the moment because Derek heard a nurse approaching and retreated to the shadows.

"Genim Stilinski?" Stiles nodded.

His father stood up and shook her free hand. Brenda was her name.

She scooted the tray on wheels up to the hospital bed and set the bag of pills down.

"This is amoxicillin, the antibiotic he will be on to prevent infection and get rid of the one he has now." She pulled out another bottle. "This is OxyContin; he will take one pill every 4-6 hours for pain management."

She took out a roll of gauze and pain-relieving ointment. She showed the sheriff how to properly disinfect the wounds and wrap them.

The last thing in the bag was a stack of papers. "This is your safety contract and meal plan. You will sign it, promising no self-harm and your meal plan will show the minimum number of calories you can consume."

Stiles signed the contract and Brenda explained the meal plan. He wasn't that concerned. The teen didn't think he had an eating disorder, sometimes (okay, a lot of times) he just didn't feel like eating. He never went out of his way to purge or burn calories, he would just forget.

"Ok sheriff, you might want to leave the room for this. I'm going to remove the feeding tube," the sheriff nodded and casually glanced to Derek (he couldn't see him but he knew he was there).

He then looked at Stiles and his son nodded, telling him it was okay that Derek was in the room.

"This is a PEG feeding tube. Removal involves deflating a balloon on the far end of the tube and withdrawing the tube through the abdominal wall," Brenda explained to Stiles.

He nodded and prepared himself.

It hurt, like, a lot. He cried out once and realized Derek was still in the room. After that, he tried not to do it again (the alpha had instincts to protect pack when they were hurt. Stiles did not need Derek wanted for murder again, besides Brenda was nice and she was trying to make it as painless as possible).

Once the stupid thing was removed, she taped up his side and gave him a moment to catch his breath.

The nurse patted him on the arm. "You did well. Just follow the instructions I gave you and everything should be okay."

The moment she was out the door, Derek launched himself out of the shadows. He engulfed the teen in a hug, mindful of his injuries.

"I wanted to push her away when she started hurting you."

Stiles pet Derek's head. "It's over now, I'm fine. I actually feel a lot better with that thing out."

"Umm, I could, um give you two some…privacy?" The sheriff said from the doorway. Derek let go of his under aged son and stepped back. The sheriff did have a gun.

John walked through the entrance. "Feel better?"

Stiles rubbed his stomach. "Oh yes, I-"

The sound of a phone ringing filled the room. The sheriff stood there and ignored it.

"Well, go on?" he said nonchalantly.

"Dad, answer your phone."

John rolled his eyes and accepted the call, walking out of the room.

Derek listened in (if anyone asked he would swear that he was not dropping any eaves).

A minute later the sheriff walked in, shoulders drooping.

He threw a thumb behind him and gestured to the door.

"They, my work, just got a call that a body was discovered in the next town over, they think it's a serial killer moving this way. They need me, immediately."

"Okay dad, go."

John looked at his son for any hint of sadness, he found none.

"I can't, you are still in the hospital and you seriously need me-"

"John, I can take care of him," Derek said.

"What? I can't leave that up to you. You're his age, oh my gosh, you're not his age, are you? Of course you're not. Not with full stubble, you're what, 25?"

Derek nodded.

"And I've been letting you touch and kiss my son? What kind of parent am I?"

"Dad, seriously, he can take care of me and I promise we won't be doing anything bad. Now go, your city needs you."

His phone started ringing again. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Fine. Derek, if you touch my son I will throttle you, werewolf powers be damned. I'm going to tell the front desk that I'm leaving him in your capable hands." And with that, he picked up the call and walked out the door.

The moment his dad was gone, the smirk disappeared from Stiles' face and he visibly deflated.

"You're in a lot of pain, aren't you?"

Stiles nodded.

Derek wordlessly took his hand and black veins transferred from Stiles' body to the alpha's.

The pained expression on the teen's face changed to one of peace.

"Thanks Derek."

The alpha nodded and took the seat his dad had been sitting in. He took the juice box off of the table and opened it.

"I'd never thought I'd see the day where sourwolf drank from a juice box."

Derek stuck his tongue out and Stiles gasped. "Two impossible things in one day. Has hell frozen over? Oh gawd, I think I'm going to have a heart attack."

The alpha couldn't help but laugh. Actually _laugh_, he hadn't felt this good in ages.

"Derek, can you please take me out of here?" Stiles said seriously.

"Stiles, I would but the doctor said another day…"

"Yeah but if you wanted to check me out you could, I'm in your care now. Just…please," the teen pleaded.

Derek sighed. "Was it because of your mom?"

Stiles nodded.

"That's what I thought. The smell of loss and grief and just general discomfort has surrounded you and your dad since I came here."

Stiles pulled the ultimate puppy dog face (Isaac and Scott couldn't hold a candle to the look he was receiving right then) and Derek crumbled. Sourwolf. The alpha. Derek freaking Hale. He crumbled, his mate was unhappy and he was going to fix it.

**I'm really sorry not much has been happening in the story. I have had to do a ton of research about doctor stuff so it takes a while to write. Anyway, next chapter (hopefully) there will be smexy times and a trip to IHOP and all around good feels.**


End file.
